A Kitty in Hell
by LovingAuntWendytheCat
Summary: This is the first chapter of my Witches of East End story that picks up where the show left off. I was so upset with the cliff hangers (Wendy's especially), and have decided to imagine what happens next and turn it into fanfiction. Every week I will post at least 2 new stories. While Wendy is in Hell one will be about her and the other will be about the other Beauchamp ladies.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Aunt Wendy

Waking up on the burning embers Wendy shudders. It's hard to adjust to the characteristic chill of death. Shakily, she stands up and tries to brush the black dust off of her hands – just because she is dead doesn't mean she has to let herself go.

"Dear, dear Wendy – how I've missed you..." The chill of death is nothing compared to the cold, solid ache that settles in her stomach at the sound of her sister's voice.

"Helena," Wendy breathes. She hadn't paused to fear death, but her sister makes her blood run cold.

"It has been too long since we had a chance to play with each other," a breathless, wheezy laugh is drawn out from the young crone's lips, and Wendy shifts to make sure she is steady enough on her feet for a fight.

"You know me, darling," the sassy witch smiles, "I don't play when I am guaranteed all pain and no gain. Death doesn't a fool of me make – it just hurts my complexion."

"I disagree my sweet – pasty suits you purrfectly."

Wendy steps back as she realizes what's missing – Kitty. She can feel the part of her missing, but she tries shifting anyways. Again. And again. And again. Her kitty is no more. The attempts and grief send her heaving to all fours. Her stomach is empty, but blood trickles out and she tentatively licks it off her teeth.

"Maybe death doesn't suit you as well as I thought – my mistake. Who would have thought you'd miss your curse?"

"Of course I miss her – she was part of me." Her tears are blood too, and they stain her face with morbid, red streaks.

"Well then, dearest, you definitely want to play with me – I can get you your kitty back... and potentially your life in the bargain."

Wendy unnecessarily inhales because the comforting habit is reassuring, "What?" she gasps.

_Don't hope yet – _she warns herself – _you can't trust her._

But hope blooms anyways.

"It's not going to be easy, but I think you have a chance of making it back... if you don't you will get away from me either way."

"What is it – don't tease – just tell me what you want?"

"I need three drops of the Devil's blood." She lets it drop like a stone into the crackling silence before going on. "If he catches you the deepest level of 9 will be your home forever, but if you get back I will give you one drop to leave as long as you hand over the other two."

Wendy raises a skeptical, perfectly-plucked eyebrow. "What do you want them for?" She asks creeping closer her dark, towering sibling.

"Irrelevant information will only slow us down, but I promise you will find out – don't you want to meet Ingrid's baby?" Something flashes in the throned lady's hard eyes, but she rushes on before Wendy can read her aura, "don't you want to be with your lover? With your girls?"

Wendy blinks away the pangs. "I – yes. Fine I will get your blood on one condition -"

"Dead and still bartering? Fine – what is your _condition_?" She ends the sentence in a drawl.

"You don't use the blood to hurt any of us – Ingrid, Freya, Johanna, and I – ever. You also don't use it to hurt any mortals. Are we clear?" Wendy feels like something is missing, but her thoughts are blur with an annoying buzz that she can't muddle through.

"Fine," Helena smiles, "deal – you leave now." An eerie smile spreads across her face. "Welcome to Hell, dear sister."

Wendy shakes her head to no avail and in a daze turns to a looming black gate at the end of the hall. It's further away than it looks, but she can't seem to keep track of time. Only when she slowly raises her hand to the black iron and wraps her manicured hand around it does her head stop buzzing. The gate doesn't open so much as it absorbs her, and when it spits her out on the other side she feels her darker powers ignite. _Come on Kitty – let's go make a scratching post of the devil. _With a satisfying stretch she drops her white dress to the ground and lets the black kitty come out to play. She really had missed her kitty, but more than that she misses her girls. A meow of angst squeaks out into the gloom as the black shadow slips down into the first level of Hell – home to the witches whose only crimes are performing magic.


	2. Chapter 2: Ingrid, Joanna, and Killian

Chapter 2: Ingrid, Joanna, and Killian in a Bloody Affair

Ingrid runs her hand over her stomach, which pushes the air out from under the loose shirt to show the bump. _What am I going to do? _she asks herself over and over again.

"Ingrid?" Joanna's worried voice pulls the redhead out of her reverie. "Sweetheart we need to talk about your decision."

"I told you," she replies, "I'm keeping the baby."

Joanna sits down at the dining room table with a sigh and pulls Ingrid down to join her. "Ingrid, you cannot keep a mandragora's baby. I know how difficult this must be for you, but this won't be a child. This baby is dangerous, and it will probably kill you before it's even born." Feeling too harsh, but knowing what must be done, she reaches for her daughter's pale hand. "You are four months pregnant, Ingrid, we have to do this now before it is too late!"

Ingrid turns her head and mumbles something Joanna can't hear.

"What is it?" You know you can tell me anything."

"I said," Ingrid breathes turning to face her mother, "what if the baby might not be the mandragora's?"

She watches the brunettes face go from serious to girly and curious. "How did I not know there was a guy? Come on then – who is he?" she asks scooting closer.

Ingrid wants nothing more than to keep the light expression on her mother's face, but knows the time for secrets in gone. "Is Freya here?"

"No, she's at the bar... why?" she asks skeptically.

"Because... because I might be having Dash's baby." Ingrid nervously bites her lip waiting for her mother's response, but for a long time it doesn't come. She can see she's lost in thought, but eventually she can't take it anymore. "Mom? Mom what are you thinking?"

"Oh Ingrid I'm sorry I just -" she goes quiet for another agonizing minute as she figures out the rest of her solution. "- I know how we can find out who or what the father is, but we need blood from Dash." Joanna jumps up and Ingrid follows suit to meet her eyes.

"Mom-"

Joanna stops with her jacket already half on, "what is it?"

"Thank you." The stress of the past year pushed Ingrid into her mother's waiting arms, and as Joanna holds her sobbing daughter a tear of her own escapes down her tired face.

"Anything for you, Ingrid. Besides I need a goal again. Without Wendy I just – I don't -" she gives into a violent bout of tears before stepping back and slowly pulling her jacket on the rest of the way as she pulls herself back together. "Let's go see what the future holds, and then we will deal with it together."

Ingrid dries her own tears and holds Joanna's hand as they step out into the crisp, Autumn air.

Killian sits looking at his hands – Dash's hands. Punching the brick wall of his cell he bleeds Dash's blood. He punches the wall again and again before falling onto the bare-bones bed. In the distance a door slams, and he jumps to his feet. He has no idea who would ever want to visit Dash, but he especially doesn't expect to see Joanna and Ingrid coming down the tiled hallway towards him. He scans behind them hopefully for Freya, but when she doesn't follow he turns to the two witches now standing in front of him.

"Dash we need your blood – just a drop." Ingrid trails off seeing his bloodied hands.

"I-" Killian clears Dash's rough throat desperately "you can have whatever you need, but first I need you to listen to me." His eyes frantically shift between them while he talks.

Joanna steps protectively in front of her daughter, "you have one minute and then we are taking what we came for. I would suggest you start."

He takes a deep breath before delving into the fastest account of Dash's switch that he can manage. "I am Killian," he rasps in conclusion, "and it is the Dash out there that you should be worried about."

Joanna doesn't stop to think before muttering an incantation and wiping the resulting blood off of his cheek through the bars. She puts three drops into a vial that she passes to Ingrid, and keeps a single drop on her finger. "Revelo," she whispers and the blood instantly flares red.

"Damn it!" she curses, "he's telling the truth. Damn it!"

"Do you think he's with Freya now?" Ingrid asks quietly, as if it might not be true if she doesn't say it out loud.

Killian and Joanna both turn to her in horror. "We will come back for you, Killian, but for now..."

"I know – go and make sure she's safe. Please make sure she's safe." He watches them run back down the hall with a growing sense of dread in his gut. _Please don't let him hurt Freya. _Shuddering with anxiety and uselessness he returns to the bed and to staring at the hands that do not belong to him.


	3. Chapter 3:devil games and familiar eyes

Small black ears twitch nervously at every flickering shadow, but Wendy slinks further into the dark. It's strange being in Hell; nothing seems to quite make sense. Every few padded steps she would swear she something is jumping out at her, but nothing is ever there when she turns. An eerie, unnatural wind from an unnameable source whispers monotonously through the endless ashen tunnels, and Wendy starts to fear it will never end. She passes through the first eight layers of Hell full of dread for what is coming next. In limbo she was sad for the souls who had magic like her and were suffering for it, but by the eighth level she is terrified. A shadowy man cloaked in a moist slime slides out from the ashes and tries to block her path. He scoops her up in his slick arms and to her mortification she turns back into a woman. He leans down and rasps sweet, seductive nothings in her ear, but she will have none of it. She gauges at his eyes with her perfectly sharpened nails. He wails something awful and lets her drop – by the time she lands it is on all fours and she quickly slips away.

The ninth level belongs to the treacherous. Broken crowns and burning oaths litter the sizzling ground that burns a soft kitty's rough paws. Padding along as lightly as she can Wendy sticks to the flickering shadows in the hopes of avoiding anymore unwanted attention. The souls on this level are nothing more than faded, gauzy bodies with withered hearts beating unsteadily in bodies that don't seem real enough to hold them. No one tries to stop the soundless black cat and soon the court of the devil looms over her – a threat. No. Wendy shakes her head. Not a threat, but a challenge. With her silky head held high she marches into the court, and tries to no avail to ignore the bones crunching under her every step. The closer she gets to the devil the harder it is to ignore because soon it isn't just bones, but organs and faces too. Every surface oozes and bubbles with sins of the flesh. The devil's throne faces away from the entrance and it is the most disturbing sight of all. Full bodies are melded together – contorted in to the shape of a morbid throne. Unable to tear her eyes away Wendy transforms and makes no attempt to shy away.

"God," she swoons loudly, "what has a girl got to do to get some blood around here?"

A soft, terrible chuckle rasps from behind the tall back of the throne, and the devil slowly stands and comes around to tower over her.

"What kind of blood did you have in mind?" He is every sin embodied and his seductive rasping rings in Wendy's ears.

"Yours of course – I didn't crawl down nine levels of this inferno for nothing. There's no point in trying to steal it so what does a girl have to do around here to get three drops of the devil's blood – your blood."

"For three drops of my precious blood a girl has to play a game – pass a test."

Wendy raises an eyebrow letting intrigue veil her terror. "What kind of test?"

"Climb the hill." The looming shadow of the devil steps aside to reveal a towering mountain that wasn't there before. "What do you say? Get to the top, and the blood is yours."

She knows that it won't be that easy, but she also knows there is no other way to get back to her girls. "When do I start?"

"Now – right now. You have twelve hours."  
Turning to the hill she passes under the devil's beckoning, billowing black sleeve and walks to its base. As soon as she steps onto it the world behind her turns to dense forest and the grass under her feet hardens into blades. _Make it to the top, Wendy. _She repeats her goal over and over as the blades cut into her soft souls. Instinctively, she hunches over to transform, but Kitty isn't permitted on this test and she is left to her own vulnerability. She struggles onwards and upwards switching between her feet and knees before conceding to taking some of the weight off with her knees and elbows.

She is almost at the top when a low, rough growl makes her look up, and two horribly familiar eyes look back at her from the face of beast.

"Fredrick?" Wendy gasps.


	4. Chapter 4: A New Pair of Eyes

Freya leans into the scrubbing motion in a futile attempt to get all of the sticky beer off the bar's gritty surface. When the bell chimes announcing a visitor she starts to tell them their closed, but then looks up and smiles at the unexpected guest.

"Killian! I thought you were having an early night?"

She watches his smile – normally so easy, but there's something rigid about it tonight. Sliding seductively out from behind the counter she swings her hair back and saunters over to the love of her life. Determined to banish the nagging of her intuition she reaches her hand into his black hair and pulls his mouth to hers. Rigid. Damn.

"Babe, what's the matter with you? You've been off ever since Dash got arrested." He doesn't answer, but his eyes flash so she figures she's on the right track. "This isn't your fault, babe. He turned dark before any of us knew better, and now he's better off where he is – we're all safer without him around, Killian."

He clears his throat as if to adjust his voice, "so you're glad he got caught? You're better off – happier – without Dash around."

Freya smiles and swings around to head back towards the bar. "Of course. Aren't you? It's not like he never tried to hurt you – us." Only a hollow silence comes in answer, and then a searing pain in her spine. Screaming she contorts backwards and crumples to the floor. "Killian – what – are you –?" She doesn't get to finish her question.

The next pain is even sharper, and the man who looks like the Killian she loves comes to lean over her. The closer he gets the more she knows something is wrong – something in his aura that doesn't make sense. Wendy would know if she were here. "Stop, please," she sobs before the third pain takes her breath away. It's like a thousand little needles drilling into the nerves along her spine, and each time they go deeper until she can't see for the pain.

"That's it Freya – beg. You used to beg me not to stop; you used to love_ me; _you left me for my brother! But now you are mine." He sends another pain with a few whispered words when she tries to muster the energy to fight back. "I am going to make you suffer for every day since you walked out on our wedding. And then I am going to kill you. I am going to kill you and then Killian will know how it feels to lose you forever."

"Dash? Where's Killian?" Freya focuses on her own energy, but Dash or whoever he is beats her down again and again until she can't fight for consciousness let alone muster any magic. Blackness over comes her just as a loud bang echoes through the bar.

Joanna blanches to see Dash looming over Freya's limp body, and her grief sends a powerful wave of magic through the bar with a bang. Killian's face with Dash's hard eyes jolts up at the disturbance and he turns to face them. Those same eyes go soft for a flicker of a second when Ingrid runs in behind her mother, but not for long. Driven by long fermented hate he can only focus on ending the woman he blames for his decline. Every part of it he blames on the unconscious Freya Beauchamp. He turns back to her and prepares for the final round of pain, and he binds Joanna to the wall with the help of the power he has been sucking from Freya. Only Ingrid stands dismissed as non-threatening. Slowly, she creeps up on her old lover and raises her shaking hands. The red head almost looses her nerve when her fingertips brush her stomach, but then Freya lets out a soft groan and Dash prepares to make it her last. Ingrid Beauchamp knows the curse from her books, but a death curse always sounds worse when you say it with intent. She recoils at the taste of the bitter words on her tongue, but the deed is done. Killian's body goes limp, and Dash's eyes go glassy as he topples over onto Freya's still limp form. Released from the dead man's hold Joanna runs to her youngest daughter and pushes him aside to take Freya in her arms. Ingrid, though, can't help the trickle of salty tears that make trails down her face as she leans down to kiss Dash one last time. And then he wakes up. All the fairytales of her childhood flash before her eyes, but once she looks into the eyes of the newly animated body Ingrid knows that is is Killian before her, and Dash is gone.


	5. Chapter 5: Devil's Blood is Bitter

The thing no one tells you about looking in the eyes of the dead is that it is so much more chilling when they dead are alive. Wendy's heart speeds up when Fredrick's eyes meet hers and she almost stops breathing entirely when she sees a flicker of recognition spark and then die in his eyes. The spark leaves a fire in its wake, and familiarity is lost as the hellhound with her nephew's eyes lifts its head to the ashen heavens and howls. It's the most mournful sound she has ever heard and a tear slips from her eyes as they to go hollow. She knew it happened sometimes to lost souls, and she knew that this was the devil's game.

"Eyes I dare not meet in dreams," she breathes out the incantation a brilliant warlock had written in 1925. "In death's dream kingdom these do not appear. Let me be no nearer in death's dark kingdom than I would be in the kingdom of dreams." Stepping back from the hellhound in the spell's trance she watches her nephew's eyes warp into dark voids that reveal the hound for the beast it is, and from there Wendy simply has to act on instinct. Kitty form or no all hellhounds like a chase, and now she knows what she'll find atop the pointy hill. Letting out a chilling howl of her own she raises an articulate eyebrow at the beast and weaves to run under and past its heavy, heaving chest. It spins around trying to catch her, but she weaves back under its stomach and gives it a shove.

"The bigger they are," she whispers sadly to herself, "the harder they fall." And she's right. The beast tumbles to the ground and its weight pushes it into the needles until it goes still, and its eyes change for the last time. Hollow. Its death reminds her of her own bleeding feet and she forces her eyes away from the gruesome sight and continues up the grim hill to the Devil's real test.

The angelic voice reaches her acute ears well before she reaches the top of the hill and sees its source. Victor looks even more handsome in hell than he did in Asgard the first time Joanna brought him home to meet the family – that was a disaster. Wendy smiles despite herself at the memory, and forgets where she is for just a moment. A precious moment that leaves her standing on the sharp needles with red feet, pale legs, and black hair that no longer looks like that of a well-groomed kitty, but instead one with its back arched and all its fur on end. She looks like a dark angel and Victor looks like god himself, but with weird eyes and a fake smile that looks like its held there by invisible pins. His voice, though, is just like it always was and he looks young and vibrant – full of life in the hollowness of hell. He turns towards her slowly, smiling, and says "dear Wendy how did we get here? Why are we in the dead land under the twinkle of a fading star?" She smiles at the quote of the previously mentioned warlock and notices the flaw in the game of a devil who like to prove his wit.

"Victor, sweet Victor, if you were you I would be immeasurably happy, but allusions reveal illusions and T.S Eliot was a great warlock and the devil is a hollow man."

Victor's smile droops like a puppet with cut strings, and he slowly descends the hill towards her. He brings green grass with him that spreads like a luxurious carpet under her stinging feet. Loosing herself in relief she doesn't notice how close he is until his warm breath brushes her ear.

"Wendy I know what you're here for, but life is overrated. Those women are overrated – they left us Wendy. Joanna left you for hundreds of years and left me for dead. I know you have always been jealous of Joanna – stay with me and you can have what she never can. Kiss me Wendy. Stay with me! Drink with me..." He trails off and lifts a vial of red liquid that has a thin veil of ice cracking on the surface. "You don't need this anymore, Wendy. Just -" he pulls her close and lowers his head towards her chapped lips - "Stay. With. Me."

Wendy licks her lips and leans in towards him – towards his soft lips; his flushed neck; his hollow eyes. She leans in towards his and drapes her arm around his neck. She curls her elegant fingers around the hard, throbbing bottle. And she stabs him in the heart. "There is a stake in your fat black heart," she whispers a final incantation to kill the devil's puppet, "you bastard I'm through!" Leaving the black needle in his chest she turns and runs down the hill with the vial in hand. She reaches the bottom tired and bloody, and the ground rushes up to her while she heaves. Blood tastes metallic in her mouth and she coughs it up as she shakily gets to her feet and runs for her life. The bitter red liquid bubbles up her throat and it's all she can do to keep it from suffocating her.

"Well little sister it looks like you survived – sort of..." Wendy vomits more blood and glares through the gate at Helena.  
"Let me through sister – I did as you said and I don't have much time."

Helena slowly walks towards her and sticks her hand through the gate to close off Wendy's throat, "that's the truth. Now give me the blood or I'll let you die here all over again."

"Pull me through first," Wendy gasps, "please."

"I am waiting for my blood!" Helena shrieks hysterically and Wendy hesitantly gives her a vial full of something red.

"Okay you have it – now help me."

Helena turns away and leaves Wendy behind the gate, "I don't think so – you'd only get in the way of my plans. Those three women will be here very soon – what a wonderful reunion. Don't you think so?"

Wendy swallows another mouthful of blood and smiles calmly at her sister as she steps through the gate and walks over to the ferry boat on the black lake.

"What did you do?" Helena cries as she rushes towards the lake, but she's too late. Wendy pushes off from the shore and towards a distant light like a fading star.

Smiling back at her sister she mischievously bites her lip. "I've tried a lot of drinks, but never devil's blood – I think I'll remind Freya to leave that one off the Bent Elbow menu; it's a little bitter, but probably a hella alot sweeter than yours my traitorous Helena." Wendy turns away and calls back, "don't worry, though, sis – I'll give my family your regards."

The incantations are quotes or variations from the _Hollow Men_ by T.S Eliot and _Daddy_ by Sylvia Plath. Victors quote from the famous warlock is also a T.S Eliot quote. I do not own them, but they were too suiting not to play with.

(Also this will get slightly less dark soon as Wendy returns to the living so hopefully it's not too gruesome, but I'm having a lot of fun writing. Also I am back to having a life so expect more chapters very soon and much more often! Hope you're all enjoying it!)


	6. Chapter 6: A Final Curse

Killian jolts awake on the hard floor of the bar with Ingrid looking into his eyes with an expression of hope that quickly flickers out. "What – what happened to me? What about the cell and Dash?" When he brings up his brother a tear slips out of Ingrid's already too wet eyes, and he pulls the traumatized girl into an awkward hug. Wrapping his arms around her he does a double-take to see his own hands and pulls back from the red head smiling. "Ingrid what did you do to get me out of there?"

He watches her excitedly, but when her face stays grim his morphs to match. "I – I had to – I killed your brother. Dash is dead." His arms go limp, and he shakes his dark head to clear the fuzzy, surreal feeling from behind his eyes. "I am _so _sorry, Killian. He was going to hurt Freya. I think he did -"

The mention of the dark haired witch pulls him back to his senses, and he crawls over to Joanna and Freya with Ingrid in his wake.

"Is she okay? Joanna? What did he do?!" Taking Freya's head in his lap, because her mother is already holding her body, he feels familiar anger at his brother writhing in his chest. "I swear if he hurt her I'll kill -" he trails off realizing what he was about to say. Leaning his head onto Freya's he breaks into harsh, choking sobs, and he hears Joanna and Ingrid join him. Joanna mumbles fruitless words in latin and every incantation in the grimoire plus some, but Freya just gets colder.

"I think -" Joanna stumbles on the words "-I think we are too late. Ingrid I'm so sorry – the baby."

Ingrid clutches her stomach realizing what Freya's death would mean for her and the baby – maybe the last part of Dash. "There must be something we can do?" she begs, "anything? A potion? Anything!"

Joanna goes to answer, but a Freya takes a shaky breath – and her chest goes still.

"No!" Joanna's painful shriek makes time go still, and she looks so small draping herself over her daughter's body once again.

Killian keeps shaking her like she might wake up, and Ingrid just goes still. She refuses to believe that within the next twenty-four hours her and her baby will be dead.

"Mom?" she quietly asks, "will you do the spell with me? I need to know before we -" Joanna looks up at her dying, but healthy daughter and gives a hollow nod before getting to her feet like she weighs nothing at all – as if the loss has left her as a negative in space.

The remnants of Dash's blood sizzle as they drop them into the pan on the bar's kitchen stove, and Ingrid and Joanna join hands and recite the incantation of the bubbling blood. When it sings in a clear, crystal voice they both know that the blood is a match with the baby, but when the blood bubbles and turns black they drop their hands in horror. It morphs from a blob in to a solid shape before settling lightly in the pan as a feather – half red, and half black.

"What does it mean?" Ingrid asks knowing in the end it won't matter.

"It means," Joanna answers softly, "that it is probably a good thing for the East End that – that..."

Her daughter finishes for her and gets her nod of approval to tell her she is all too right, "it means that it is a good thing I won't get to have this baby."

Freya's funeral is too empty for grief. Joanna hasn't been more than physically present since she died, and Ingrid woke up coughing blood and now is barely conscious. Killian couldn't bring himself to come. The coffin is simple, and no one gave it much thought since it is one of many. Freya looks disturbingly beautiful though. Her white dress drapes over the creases in the red silk-lining in the coffin, and her black hair is a sharp contrast with her pale face. Joanna steps up to the coffin and lowers it into the ground, but when she is only half way she stops to look at Wendy's worn headstone. "I wish you were here, Wendy. I don't think I can do it again, and without you who will find me in the bath?"

"If you slit your wrists one more time I will turn you into a cat – it's really a pretty decent existence when you aren't dealing with the devil, but I am serious about the threat!"

Joanna turns just in time to see Wendy throw herself into her arms. It's Wendy, but she is the worst Joanna has ever seen her, and that's saying something. "Wendy? Oh my god! How -"

Wendy pulls back and looks into her sisters agonized, black eyes. "I saw Helena and I -" she cuts herself off looking into the coffin.

"Oh my god! What happened?!"

"She – Dash..." Joanna trails off lacking the will to go on.

"Dash killed her, and I killed Dash even though I am pregnant with his cursed child, and now I am going to die." Ingrid's voice is pitifully weak, and she concludes her blatant statement with a cough of blood, which reminds Wendy -

When she sees her younger sister curl over and heave blood Joanna falls to her knees and digs her fingers into the dirt. "You can't be sick too – just kill me if you're all going to die on me again."

"Don't be so melodramatic, Joanna – just get me a vial."

Quizzically, she does as she's told, and Wendy heaves until the devil's blood is entirely out of her system except for one drop. "I found a cure for our curses, dear sister. Have you ever tried devil's blood?"

"I – you mean I drink it and they'll be okay?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Now that Freya's already dead they might have to be reborn one more time, but after that it's regular immortality for all of us. It's your only choice, Joanna. We have to try and break the cycle.

Silently, Joanna reaches for the bottle. With a final look at her daughters she drains her drop and waits.


	7. Chapter 7:Revive life & reveal secrets

When Freya comes back from the dead she can barely breathe. Aunt Wendy and Joanna are the first ones to wrap her in a tight hug, but Ingrid is a close second as her sickness ebbs away.

"What happened to me?" She says groggily pressing her hands to her sore head.

"You should be a little perkier considering you get a second lease on immortal life, babe," Wendy smiles sarcastically.

Joanna smiles blissfully at her daughter and Ingrid – as usual the only one thinking rationally – reaches down to help Freya out of the coffin.

Laughing the newly revived brunette takes the extend hand, "thank you."

"Don't thank me, yet. Freya – can we talk." Ingrid fights the urge to touch her stomach and Freya nods suspiciously.

"Um – ya, sure." Finally, the other women in her family pitch in and together they lift her out of the coffin. "I'll go with Ingrid then," she meets her mother's eyes, "I'll see you at home, okay." Joanna holds her daughter's hand as long as she can and then turns to Wendy for support as they walk away.

Freya watches her older sister curiously over a streaming cup of coffee. "God, I am so glad I do not have to wait to grow up and have coffee again!" She says to fill the silence, but Ingrid doesn't even smile. "Ingrid, what is it? You know you can tell me anything."

Freya reaches for her hand and holds it trying to convince her to talk to her. "I – I think I made a really big mistake. Promise you won't hate me?"

"I never could, sis."

Taking a slow, resigned breath she finally tells her younger sister the truth. "I slept with Dash and helped him get away with murder, but then I realized how dangerous he was getting – I thought that man's death was an accident or a defence or – it doesn't matter, though, I still slept with him. And then the mandragora – well, you know what the mandragora did –"

Freya's face is a mask and she coldly asks, "so who's baby is it, Ingrid?"

Trying to shake of Freya's icy tone she whispers, "It's neither one's baby alone. When she thought I would die after you mom told me it was good my baby would never be born – it's cursed, Freya. Cursed and lethal. I don't know what to do now! I want to have my baby, but if it's as bad as it's fathers – God! I can't believe I am saying this! Freya, please say something?"

Feeling unable to process it all she just sits there for a minute before standing up and going around the table to give Ingrid a hug. "Ingrid, I am so sorry. I promise I will help you figure all of this out, but I – I need to just process this before I can be around you – before I can help you – okay?"

"I understand. Thank you – for not hating me." She searches her sister's eyes to make sure she's okay.

"I already told you – never going to happen." They smile softly at each other, and then Freya pulls herself away with a desperate need for some fresh air. She runs down to the docks and leans over the railing frantically trying to catch her breath.

"Freya?"

She spins around, "Killian?"

The breath is knocked out of her all over again when Killian picks her up and swings her around. "I thought you were dead? How?"

"My Aunt Wendy fought the devil or something amazing – oh, Killian." She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. She kisses him until it numbs her confused brain and then she keeps on kissing him. She pulls him down to the dock, but he doesn't take any convincing.


	8. Chapter 8: Married or Not?

She digs her fingers into Killian's back like she is trying to meld their flesh together forever, and his touch is no less desperate. He slips her white dress off her shoulders and kisses along her collar-bone, and she tilts her head back inviting him to continue up her neck. He does and when she finds her lips she rolls over on him and takes to working on his belt buckle. While he lifts her skirt she takes off his shirt and traces his abs hungrily with her eyes. When he finally shifts inside of her she arches her back and jerks back and forth. The moon plays with the shadows and he is wonderfully hard in-between her thighs. She doesn't want it too end, but it doesn't take very long – apparently being brought back to life heightens your senses to incredible benefit. Rolling off her lover she turns to him and kisses his cheek. "Killian – will you marry me?"

"Marry me. I missed you so much, Wendy. I never want to be away from you again."

"Tommy," Wendy leans into the frantic man and breathes him in. There must be some feeling left there, but there's not and she pulls away. "I can't see you anymore, Tommy. I loved you – truly I did, but I need to be alone for awhile. Too much has happened – I'm sorry."

He tries to grab her as she slinks away followed by a black cat, but the kitty hisses and she flees through his front door. Wendy doesn't know what's wrong with her, but ever since she got back from Hell the man she saved is a stranger to her – there's nothing left of the attraction she once felt.

"I always thought I would be married first." Ingrid says to her mother as she pulls a cheap ring on and off her left hand.

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry." Pulling her daughter in, Joanna breathes her in and sighs. "We will get through this together – O.K?"

Ingrid sniffles and looks up into her mother's flickering eyes. "I hope so." Giving Joanna's hand a squeeze the red-head stands up and heads up the stairs. The baby's kicking, and everyone else is scared of the thing she already loves more than life itself.


	9. Chapter 9: When the lake screams

Of course, she said yes. Freya said yes over and over until Killian swept her up in his arms and carried her home to announce the news to the other Witches of East End.

Ingrid just stood there in shock.

Wendy squealed louder than even Freya (which is an impressive feat), and wrapped her in a hug that smelled like flowers and expensive perfume.

Johanna cried and pried Wendy away to give her daughter a long, wet hug that meant everything in the world to both of them. "My girls," she sobs looking between the red-head and the brunette, "I can't believe you've both made it so far!"

"Ingrid, please say you're happy for me?" Freya begs walking up to her still-quiet sister.

"I-" she stutters before giving a small smile, "of course I am. I am so, so happy for you – and you too Killian."

He smiles glad to be acknowledged amid the fray. "Thank you, Ingrid."

"Well come on in here you two! What are you glued to the door post?" Wendy takes them both by the hand and pulls them into the living room – "Joanna are you giving them yours or mine?"

Joanna takes a second to catch up with her sisters racing mind, but then she smiles. "Mine, of course."

"Your what?" Freya asks with a sceptically raised eyebrow.

Running her hands along Freya's arms Joanna smiles, "my blessing -"

"Witches have their own ways of celebrating these things." Wendy interrupts, smiling.

Wendy wasn't kidding. The lake spreads out in a shifting, dark mass and catches the moon in its subtle current. While it plays with the pale light four ladies dressed all in white with red sashes stand upon the shore murmuring strange, old words. One – a tall lady with black hair and long nails – walks clockwise around in a circle with a burning cluster of herbs. Another lady with dark brown hair tumbling over her shoulders sprinkles salt around the same circle. A red head carries a ball of light moving counterclockwise in a slightly wider circle. In the middle of it all is a young lady with tan skin and dark, rich hair. The more the others walk and chant the brighter she glows until it is her light the water plays with. The tide moves in faster than could ever be explained by scientists – at least those of the human variety. When the water comes up high enough to lick at their toes all of the ladies come to a stand-still. Together Wendy, Joanna, and Ingrid make a triangle with Freya standing in the center and they continue to chant. It gets louder and louder; the tide gets higher and higher; Freya gets brighter and brighter – and then everything goes silent, still, and dark.

And then Ingrid screams.

Hello darlings! Thanks for reading! I know these are getting shorter, but I think writing more frequently with shorter entries might be a good plan? What do you think? Any guesses about Ingrid's baby? You'll find out soon – promise to post another tomorrow, and this one is Ingrid centered.

~ Lovingauntwendythecat


	10. Chapter 10: Daemon wails & tolling bells

Ingrid arches her back and screams. She screams until her ribcage rattles against her lungs and her throat feels raw – skinned. The sand bites at her skin, while the water recedes back to its natural place. Her vision goes blurry with the pain radiating up her vertebra, and she can barely make out the three faces leaning over her. She feels someone trying and failing to pick her up, and then six hands lifting her out of the sand. It sounds like her mother who whispers an incantation, and then the world lurches in every direction before they land back in the Beauchamp house.

"Wendy," Joanna commands, "get her upstairs and in bed. Freya get me some hot water and blankets." Her requests sound so normal that Ingrid manages a few calmer breaths before the next pain – that's because no one saw the job Joanna gave herself.

When her mother finally joins them upstairs she is carrying a book on top of something heavy – a box? Wishing she could clear her eyes Ingrid blinks as rapidly as she can until Freya turns to look at her and turns to the older women in horror - "Mom, Wendy – Ingrid's bleeding."

"Well of course she's bleeding she's having a – oh my god! Ingrid!" Wendy turns around and pulls at Joanna until she does the same. For an awful second they all just stand there with fear painted on their pale faces.

"What?" Ingrid gasps, "What's wrong?" She looks frantically from face to face waiting for someone to tell her the obviously terrifying truth.

Finally, Joanna dips a towel in some warm water and comes to sit beside her on the bed. Dabbing something sticky off her cheeks she answers as calmly as she can, "Ingrid everything is fine, sweetheart. You've got a bit of blood in your eyes that's all – we expected this."

Searching her too calm face Ingrid reaches a hand up to her cheek – it comes away soaked with blood. "A bit? Mom? Am I – Am I going to die?" Joanna starts to answer, but another scream from Ingrid drowns her out. She had read a lot about childbirth, but no "What to Expect" book could explain the feeling off nails being hammered into her spine. Nor could it explain the tearing sensation inside her too-big belly. The contractions are worse than they should be – and everyone knows it.

When she lapses into silence again Joanna continues with her answer unfazed, "No." She answers determinedly, "you are going to be just fine, sweetheart. I promise. Now tell me what you're feeling – don't you dare leave anything out." Her mother smiles and strokes Ingrid's hair, while the red-head catches her breath enough to answer.

"It feels like I am being torn from the inside out. There are nails in my spine. The contractions feel so cold they burn. And I can't see straight. How am I doing so far?"

Flickers of doubt play in her mother's eyes for a second, but then Joanna is back in control. "Ingrid – do you trust me?"

"With my life," she nods.

Looking resolute she takes Ingrid's hand and turns to Wendy. "Get me the knife – it's under the false bottom of my dresser... and then you and Freya should leave and wait downstairs." She whispers something else that Ingrid can't hear – probably a warning. Wendy hesitates, but another scream wrenches its way up her nieces throbbing throat and she runs to do as she's been asked. Ingrid holds Freya close when she comes in for a hug, and then they both put on brave smiles as she walks away.

"I love you Ingrid, babe – you've got this," Freya says from the doorway and then she's gone.

"Here," Wendy tosses the knife at Joanna who catches it too casually – she's done this before. They both have, Ingrid thinks foggily to herself. Wendy leaves after a tight hug and a hand through red, sweat-soaked hair.

"It's just you and me, Ingrid. We are going to do this together, O.K?" Joanna asks soothingly.

Ingrid can only nod as she grinds her teeth through another contraction. Her mother mutters something and her belly goes wonderfully numb and tingly. Joanna's hand shakes, and she has to pause and force it to be still before making the first cut. Ingrid feels a pulling near the bottom of her torso, but that's all – magic beats epidurals every time. Ten minutes pass before a wailing fills the room, and Joanna waves her fingers to close the incision before standing up with Ingrid's baby in her arms. The baby is wailing so loudly the entire neighborhood can hear the desperate, heart-wrenching sound, and thunder and lightning shatter the night sky into bright shards. Refusing to meet Ingrid's eyes Joanna murmurs and rocks back and forth with the child in her arms until the wailing finally stops.

"Mom? Mom look at me! Is the baby O.K?"

Joanna looks up tearfully, "For now – Ingrid you have a baby girl, and she is Dash's baby."

Ingrid smiles, but Joanna isn't done. Handing her the baby girl she goes on, "she is also the mandragora's baby." Ingrid's face drops. "Mandragora venom got into her blood stream when he fed off of you – your daughter is a daemon, Ingrid. She will be more powerful then any of us, but we will take care of her and when the time comes hopefully she will protect not harm us."

Ingrid looks up at her mother and then down at the small, fiery haired child. "Thank you, mom. I will keep her safe."

Raven stands outside the Beauchamp house with her hair flapping in the sudden storm. Slipping her hand into her jacket pocket she rings a small metal bell and it sends the church bells tolling. The daemon is here and her orders from Asgard are clear – hunt the witches down and bring them the girl.

Hope you enjoyed something a little longer! I was planning on breaking this into two parts, but then it all just came together. Thank you for reading my darling witches, and I promise the next chapter will be soon!

~LovingAuntWendytheCat㈏6


	11. Chapter 11: Stolen Youth

Ingrid's daughter never slept. The third Beauchamp would howl through the night and whimper through the day as though the moon gave her power and the sun scorched her soft, pink skin. Her pink skin clashed with her red hair – so red it made her mother's blond by comparison – and the soft tuffs grew longer each day. Our chapter beings on the fourth and last day of this child's youth.

"Mom," Ingrid called, "mom where are you? We have to go or we'll be late for her Naming Day!"

"Coming!" Joanna shouted running down the stairs forgotten purse in hand, "I'm here – where is my granddaughter?"

"In the car with Wendy."

"And Freya?"

"Freya is meeting us there – she had a late night with Killian... something about wedding plans." They share knowing, excited smiles. Freya's wedding is scheduled a week from today.

"Right then – let's go name this lovely girl with her healthy lungs."

She whimpers all the way to the beach and down the aisle, but it doesn't keep anyone from beaming at her sweet, though crumpled, face. Witches from all over East End came over for the Naming Day of the mysterious, wailing daemon and all are surprised by how innocent she looks. Ingrid carries her down a white aisle in a white basket to where Joanna, Freya, and Wendy stand around a white cauldron. When the new mother stops in front of the cauldron Joanna pulls out a too-familiar knife and draws it across her hand. Wendy and Freya are next, followed by Ingrid and lastly by a drop of her daughters fresh blood. "With this ritual I name thee Ginni and claim you as mine to protect, love, and instruct in the ways of magic and life. We mix our blood to make this pledge and stain the white to keep you safe from those who would hunt our kind. My daughter and blood, Ginni Sapientia Beauchamp, is The Heart as I am The Key. So mote it be."

"And as I am the Gatherer – what a lovely ceremony." Helena appears on the other side of the cauldron and the bloody mixture starts to writhe with heat.

"Helena, what are you doing here -" Joanna hisses with rage.

"And how the hell did you get here?" Wendy asks stepping protectively in front of Ingrid and Ginni.

Helena flickers her wrist and the watching witches and warlocks vanish. Another flick and Wendy is sent flying across the sand. One more and Joanna is paralyzed before she can fight back. She turns to the baby, but Freya throws herself in front and takes the hit to the heart. Horrified at the sudden turn of the tide Ingrid joins her daughter in a mortified wail and sends spell after spell at her aunt. It is all in vain, though, and Helena paralyzes her too before taking Ginni into her arms. Tears streak down her immobile face and Helena leans down and caresses the small girl's pink cheeks.

"Don't worry Ingrid darling – I won't kill her... yet. Youth is such a precious thing. It's so strong and vibrant – so much strength and power. I have rotted in hell for centuries, and now I need to be restored. I need this child's youth. The rest of her life will be taken in due course, but for now I only need her childhood – besides it would be greedy not to leave some for my human pet, Raven, to play with."

Helena's voice drips with hunger and a dangerous, lusting greed. She takes a long finger nail and draws blood just above Ginni's heart. A rush of pearly white pulses out until it is blinding – when it is gone so is the woman and the baby. Only a girl remains.

She must be about fourteen, and her fiery red hair is streaking the sand as another red head leans over her and cries. Eventually, three other ladies stir and rush to their side. One of them with a new engagement ring seems different from the rest – like she has lost something she cannot name. They sit together and weep, but there is nothing to be done. Soon the girl will wake, but her childhood is gone. The rest of her fate will not be easy.

Hope you all liked this update! I will post the next one before Friday (although it might be late on Thursday night)! Thank you so much for reading, and have a wonderful witchy week. MWAH ㈏4


	12. Chapter 12: A Bitch and a Half

When Ginni wakes up on the beach she can't remember anything except a seething red liquid. "Where am I? Who am I?" The words taste strange in her mouth and the older ladies around her seem only vaguely familiar – like she should know them, but doesn't, and there's a sense of trust she can't explain.

"You are on the beach in East End," the older red head says through her sobs. "Your name is Ginni Beauchamp, and I am your mother, Ingrid."

"And I am your grandmother – Joanna."

"Wendy – your aunt." says the mischievous looking lady.

The younger lady gives a sad laugh as though trying to make light of something awful, "that's great-aunt to her Wendy – I am your aunt Freya, baby girl."

"I – I don't understand." She looks at her hands and her long, red hair. "I don't remember my life."

Ingrid – her mother – pulls her into an embrace. "I am so sorry sweet heart, but you haven't had a life to remember yet – your great-aunt stole your youth for a dark sort of magic."

The teenage girl recoils from Wendy who scoffs - "please! Do I look like I need someone else's youth?" When Ginni just gawks she takes her hands in her manicured ones and goes on, "I don't – this was your other great-aunt, Helena. She's a bitch and a half, but we'll get her back for this – promise." She winks and Ginni decides she likes this family member at least. Looking around at the four women she allows herself a small smile – at least from now on her life seems like it will be a good one. Right?

Helena slams through the door of the old farm house to find Raven shooting at the walls. "What are you doing? If they find us before we are ready we don't stand a chance. Do you want to live in Asgard as queen or not, Raven?"

The other lady takes her finger slowly off the trigger - "sorry." She mumbles swaggering over to her make-shift bed of hay and a jacket. "Did you get it?"

"I did – and I left enough for your immortality to be completed before our return to Asgard."

Suddenly more attentive Raven sits up to face her, "what else are we waiting for?"

"We need their blood when it is boiling."

"I thought that's what you just got!"

"No," Helena snaps impatient with her own anxieties. "Their blood symbolized the child's youth, which I took. We need their blood when they are at their angriest, and I've already started stirring the pot. The key is to ensure they don't catch on and open the portal themselves – if they return to Asgard and discover the prophecy about the girl all is lost."

Raven swings her gun around her finger and latches it to her thigh. Walking over to her partner she raises her eyebrow, "I guess we'd better keep them from catching on then, eh? I'll be back – need more ammunition."

She adds an extra swing to her hips for the older ladies entertainment, and Helena watches her all the way out the door, "hurry back, darling – bring some of that delicious human take-out you found... we're eating in."


	13. Chapter 13: Shots Fired

The coast of Asgard is stunning. A white beach runs as far as young red-head can see beside the deep blue ocean, and a mountain watches over it and the forest on the other side. She turns her face into the wind and looks in wonder at the castle the mountain cradles – her home. The ocean licks at her feet, but then she looks down and the beach is gone. A massive snake it curling around her ankles tighter and tighter slowly rising up her body – Nohoggr.

Ginni wakes up in a cold sweat in a strange bed. Her body still doesn't feel like her own and the pink blankets covering her don't feel like hers. Quietly, she slips out of the strange bed and down the hall to the bathroom. Splashing her face she stays as quiet as possible, but not quiet enough.

"Are you alright?" Ingrid pokes her head into the tiled room.

"I -" Ginni stutters, "I'm fine, just a little warm." It feels strange to be looked at with so much love when you don't even know the owner of the loving gaze. Ingrid is still a stranger to her. The older red head smiles sadly, knowing her daughter doesn't know her, and hesitates. She reaches out to squeeze Ginni's should awkwardly before walking tearfully back to bed. Ginni can't go back to bed. She bounces on the balls of her feet nervously for a few minutes and then makes up her mind. She tiptoes downstairs and slips on her seekers and leather jacket – Wendy had taken her shopping in the city the day after she woke up on the beach. Turning the knob carefully so as not to alert the sleeping witches she slips out into the night. The humid air is comforting against her skin and for a moment she is at peace. And then she catches a scent on the wind. Like ash and blood. Her eyes flash red, and the lost teenage girl disappears. She knows exactly who she is. She knows exactly what she was meant to do.

Scales climb up her arms as she runs through the park after the smell. Through the park, through the woods, down to the farm. She climbs easily up the wall of the barn and peers in through the window. Two women are lying, entangled, on a bed of hay. Her eyes flash red again, but this time it doesn't fade. The woman on the bottom looks up in horror as the daemon drops from the window and pulls the other lady off with a vicious yank. This isn't the one she wants. Casting the brunette aside she turns to the source of the smell. Helena doesn't stand a chance.

The smell of blood wakes Wendy up, and in turn she shakes Freya and Joanna to their senses. When they find Ginni's cold bed they assume the worst and rush down the stairs, Ingrid at their head.

"I'm sure she's fine -" Joanna stops mid reassurance because her granddaughter is standing in the living room soaked with blood and holding her sister from hell against her heaving chest.

"I brought you a present," A red-eyed Ginni growls in a voice based deep in her chest. "I am taking us back to Asgard – think of how much you hate this woman for what she has done to us, and pour your blood into the bowl." She points a bare foot at a silver bowl on the coffee table. "Do it now!"

"Shit." Wendy curses under her breath. Something has come over Ingrid and she willingly, as if dazed, cuts her hand and lets her seething blood drip rhythmically into the bowl. Ginni's nostrils flare.

"Ginni," Freya whimpers, "what is this about?"

"I have seen my fate. Our fates. We must return to Asgard before Yggdrasil falls. Helena has been aiding in its destruction from hell, and we must return. I will lead Asgard in another era of prosperity, and we will be aligned with the human world at last!" Her voice rings prophetically in the silence.

Recognition flashes in Wendy and Joanna's eyes, and together they add their blood. Freya follows suit never taking her eyes off her niece. The bowl is boiling and Helena wakes up with a shriek of pain. Ginni, much to the distress of her family, digs her nails into her aunt's neck and the blood is seemingly sucked into her fingertips. Looking even stronger and more dangerous than before Ginni tosses her unconscious aunt from hell aside. The bowl bubbles and seethes dangerously as she moves closer and begins to chant. The whole house throbs with strange energy. As Ginni dips her hands into the blood and begins to paint a frame on the south wall of the house a woman with brown hair slips in unnoticed. "Don't move another muscle," Raven hisses looking frantically at Helena. "What did you do to her?"

Ginni turns around slowly and her muscles tense. "Drained her – she is no longer a threat. Your fate will be significantly more unpleasant if you dare interrupt this again."  
Raven's hand quivers around her gun, and then she alters her target and fires.

Hi! Thanks for reading! I'm so sorry this took so long – I've been getting so many hours at work lately. Hope you enjoyed it and I promise to write again soon! Stay wicked, my darling witches.

~ Lovingauntwendythecat


	14. Chapter14:The original Ingrid and Freya

The room is eerily silent after the gun shot stops ringing in the air. Ingrid, who jumped in front of Ginni, looks instinctively at her daughter. Raven crumples on the floor next to Helena heaving with sobs as the older witch starts fighting for breath. Wendy and Freya just stare at Johanna, and Johanna just stares down at her stomach and then back up at them. Her white night-gown is quickly soaking with red and she stumbles into her sister who grabs onto her with anxious hands.

"Mom-" Freya whispers, but Joanna's eyes have glazed over and she doesn't seem to hear her daughter or feel it when Ingrid leaves Ginni's side to take her hand. Raven looks up from Helena's body and spits at the dying witch, "she deserves to die for bringing all you sinning scum into the world!" Ginni unleashes a howl that shatters the windows of the house and fractures Raven's bones. She pounces at her grandmother from across the room. She tears Johanna from the firm grip of her sister and daughters, and throws her at the South wall of the house where she drew the frame with her blood. Except Joanna doesn't hit the wall – she goes through it.

"No!" Freya screams, but Wendy just looks at her great-nice with new respect and leaps through the wall after Joanna. Hesitantly, Ingrid and Freya meet each other's eyes, take each other's hands, and jump after the rest of the Beauchamps. Ingrid grabs hold of Ginni as they pass her and, although she is sizzling with heat, pulls her through the portal with an iron grasp.

The coast of Asgard is stunning. A white beach runs as far as the witches can see beside a deep blue ocean, and a mountain watches over it and the forest on the other side. Ginni turns her face into the wind and looks in wonder at the castle the mountain cradles – her home. The ocean licks at Wendy's feet, but it is foaming red with her sister's ever-spilling blood. A snake seethes under the water drinking it up until the family of witches pull her out of its venomous reach. Kneeling before her grandmother Ginni sticks her fingernails into her neck and draws the spilt blood back into her body until Joanna closes her eyes and takes a peaceful, steady breath. "Long recovery ahead – be O.K." Ginni mumbles before hitting the sand in a dead faint. Her scales recoil and her body heat drops to levels a mortal can stand. For a while it is all the others can do to keep standing, but then Wendy looks up at her nieces wearing an exhausted smile. "Well girls are you ready to go home?"

With a combination of will-power and power of the magical variety the three witches carry their two sleeping family members up into the mountains. The sun was rising when they landed in Asgard, but by the time the castle is looming over them the mountains in the West are literally swallowing the sun into a black void, while strange wisps are drawing a curtain over the sky.

"Aperta," Wendy whispers at the towering black gate. At the sound of her voice a clanging harmony of thousands of shifting locks rings through the air. When the gates swing open an entire court turns to stare at them.

"Miss us?" Wendy winks at the room of gawking witches, warlocks, and beasts.

An elderly man comes up to them and bows at their feet before taking in Joanna and Ginni with nervous, watery eyes. "Who is the young girl? What has happened to my granddaughter?"

Wendy looks at the man affectionately. "Johanna will be fine, Akean, and the young girl is Ingrid's daughter – your granddaughter." Turning to Ingrid and Freya she continues, "Girls it is my pleasure to introduce my mother's father - your non-sociopathic great-grandfather."

Ingrid just smiles shakily, and Freya says "nice to meet you," before starting to shake along with her sister.

"I think these girls need some beds, and so do the two sleeping beauties."  
"Of course," Akean beams tearfully, "but Freya should go through into the council-room first."

"But Akean she's not -"

"Nonsense, he needs to see her! I'll take the rest of you to your rooms. Freya go and see him and then you can meet us. You remember where your room is?"

"Of course she does," Wendy says with a strange, horrible recognition dawning on her face.

Coming over to the girls with the pretense of a hug she whispers frantically, "no one here can ever know that you are not the original Ingrid and Freya. Freya the man you are about to see is named Aspen, and you love him. Your room is at the top of the stairs, down a long hallway to the left and then the last door on the right. The council room is just through the doors at the back of the ballroom." Wendy sighs, "the results would be catastrophic if anyone learned the truth. The people won't follow a new Ingrid and Freya. I'm sorry girls, but I need to know you understand..."

She pulls back and they nod, "we love you too Aunt Wendy."

Thanks for reading! I know I have been bad about posting, but I promise to not let it go more than a week from now on.

~ LovingAuntWendytheCat

Mwah 3


End file.
